Axel quickly exited the vehicle and came around to the passenger side. “This is Devlin,” he told Kelly. “Dr. Devlin Grant.” Axel looked at the man. “This is Kelly.”

Dr. Grant smiled warmly. “It’s nice to meet you, Kelly.”

She was led inside and taken to a small private waiting room. A young blond girl stood up when they entered. She looked about Kelly’s age and her smile was as warm and friendly as the doctor’s.

“This is Savannah,” Dr. Grant said. “My sister-in-law. I had her bring in some clean clothes for you to put on. There’s a private bathroom down the hall, with a shower so you can wash up.”

The girl picked up a bag from one of the chairs and came forward almost cautiously as if afraid she might frighten Kelly. “I’ll take you,” she said softly.

Kelly glanced uncertainly at Axel who stood in the doorway. He nodded and smiled. “It’s okay.”

“What…what about Raimi?” she whispered. “Is-is he going to be okay?”

“He will get the best of care,” Devlin assured her. “The second I know something, I’ll let you know. But I don’t want you to worry.” He paused and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry. I know it’s impossible not to worry about a sick loved one. But try not to worry too much. He’s in good hands.” He motioned to the other girl. “Why don’t you let Savannah help you get cleaned up and into some fresh clean clothes. That alone will make you feel much better.”

Kelly nodded and murmured, “Thank you.” It all felt like a dream. Her mind couldn’t fathom being free of the orphanage. She had long ago accepted her fate—that she would die in that hell, or one equally as horrific. She hadn’t believed for one moment that she would escape or be rescued. A good world outside the orphanage had been nothing more than a fairytale to her and she hadn’t believed it truly existed.

“Come on,” Savannah said gently and motioned to the door.

Kelly paused when she passed Axel. “Are…are you going to stay?” She felt safe with him and didn’t want him to go yet.

He nodded. “I’ll be here.”

She started to go then paused again. “Thank you,” she whispered shakily, her eyes filling. “Thank you for saving us.”

Axel blinked and smiled, and seemed at a loss for words. Kelly glanced at Savannah and the girl had tears in her eyes as well. She led Kelly out of the room and down the corridor. The hard floor was cool against her bare feet but not nearly as cold as the floor at the orphanage. This floor almost felt warm in comparison.

They entered the bathroom and Savannah closed the door behind them and locked it, so no one would walk in on them. Kelly stood motionless, anxious and uncertain.

“We’ll get the water heated up.” Savannah moved around her and reached into the small shower stall and cranked on the water. She faced Kelly. “I can help you if you like. Or if it would make you feel more comfortable, I can step out.”

The thought of being alone made Kelly tremble. “You…you can stay,” she mumbled.

“Okay,” Savannah said softly. “Let me help you get out of this.” She gently lifted the filthy gown over Kelly’s head and dropped it in the corner by the door.

Kelly knew that the horrid stink of the orphanage was still with her, but the other girl exhibited no disgust or gave any indication she even smelled the foul odor. Just that little bit of care and courtesy made her want to cry.

“Test the water,” Savannah said. “Make sure it’s not too hot.”

Kelly nodded and started to reach inside the shower when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She froze in fear at the sight of herself. Her chin trembled and the image before her blurred. “I look…dead.” Her throat worked, and tears slid down her gaunt, sallow face.

Savannah wrapped her arm around Kelly’s bare, bony shoulders. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured. “You just need to get healthy.”

On the back of the door was a full-length mirror and Kelly faced that direction as her entire body was reflected back to her. She choked on a sob. “I look like a monster.”

“No, you don’t,” Savannah said quietly. “You’re just undernourished. Once you start eating well again, you’ll gain weight.”

Staring at her frightening reflection, Kelly couldn’t imagine looking like a normal human being again. Her focus shifted to the many bruises on her emaciated body. She turned slowly and went still when she caught a glimpse of her back.

“Oh, my God,” Savannah whispered and tentatively touched Kelly’s back. “They did this to you?”

Kelly swallowed thickly; Barron’s belt had left its mark.

 

•♦•

 

Olson screamed when Clint tightened the strip of cloth around his mangled wound, none too gently. “Can’t take the chance of you bleeding out.” He stood and hauled the man to his feet. Olson balanced on his good leg, excreting sharp cries as Clint moved him over to where the cook lay on the floor, shuddering and twitching. Boil blisters covered his face and neck and scalp, and his wound was bubbled up where his ear used to be.

Horrified at the sight of the cook, Olson exclaimed, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Clint chuffed brittle and kicked the man’s leg out from under him, dropping him face first into the steamy mess on the floor. Though no longer boiling, the gruel was still plenty hot, and Olson yelled out as it burned his cheek. Clint ignored him and took the other phone cord from his pocket and bound up Olson’s feet. He went around the kitchen, slicing off small appliance cords then returned and used one of the cords to fasten Olson’s hands to his feet behind his back. He screamed out again as his leg was wrenched at an awkward and very painful angle.

Trying to get as little of the nasty slop on himself as possible, Clint used the other cords to bind up the cook in the same manner. He didn’t have much to say other than slurred, garbled sounds. The man’s mouth had been opened in a scream when his head dunked into the boiling mix—the inside of his mouth was no doubt as blistered as his face. That was okay—Clint wasn’t in the mood to chat.

He rose to his feet and washed his hands. On the counter was a wooden rolling pin and he picked it up. He walked over to the two men. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll be back for you soon.” He cracked them both in the head, laying them out cold.

Clint left the kitchen and returned to the main large room. The kids had hardly moved, though some were on their feet now, wandering around, never venturing too far from the “group”. He wasn’t sure if they could even understand him if he spoke to them, but he gave it a try.

“Everyone come over here.”

The kids on their feet went still, then obeyed. The others stood up. They all lined up in formation as if this was routine. The nasty slop clung to their hands and faces. Some had bits of it in their hair.

“I want you to follow me, all right?” He moved slowly toward the door. The kids seemed confused and remained in line, unmoving. “Come,” he said a bit more forcefully. “Follow me.” They responded more readily to his forceful tone and slowly, hesitantly shuffled after him. When he opened the door and went through, they stopped. “Come,” he said again.

One of the older boys—it was hard to tell his exact age as his body seemed shrunken from his severe malnutrition—shook his head. His eyes were slightly glazed as if he were only half there cognitively. “Can’t leave,” he mumbled. “Have to stay here.”

“No,” Clint said. “Change of rules. I’m in charge now. And I want you to come with me out of this room. All of you. Do you understand?”

The boy’s forehead crinkled uncertainly. “But…”

“No,” Clint spoke sternly. “You listen to me. Do you understand?”

The boy blinked…then nodded.

“Good.” Clint’s tone softened a bit. “Now, come with me.”

This time, the children followed, trailing him down the hall and through the entryway and on into the warm living room. He moved the furniture back, making room for them to sit on the carpet before the fireplace.

“I want all of you to come over here and sit on the floor.” The kids obeyed. “I want you to stay sitting down until I get back. Do not go near the fire.” He walked to the door and looked back. All the children stared at the fireplace, mesmerized by the flickering flames. “You’re safe now,” he told them, unsure if any of them could even comprehend the notion of being safe. “No one’s going to hurt you anymore.” He started to turn away and leave the room when the older boy twisted around and looked at him. For a fleeting moment, his eyes focused and he was there…then they glazed over again an instant later and he went back to staring at the fire.

Clint closed the door to the living room and walked into the entryway and stood by the desk. He made his call to Cochise and learned that the buyers had been arrested. Clint explained the situation at the orphanage and instructed the Egyptian to bring a vehicle large enough to transport the kids, and have Cruz and some of his men come along as well.

“We’re going to do this here,” Clint said with a brittle edge. “So, we’re going to need some things from the guest room.” He gave him a list of the requested items. “And bring a lot of warm blankets.

“You going to have Axel in on this?” Cochise asked doubtfully.

“He isn’t here. One of the children were in critical condition, he took him to the hospital.”

“You’re out there alone?” Cochise asked. “How many are you up against?”

“Just three,” Clint said. “Axel took one down before he left. I got the other two.” He paused and rubbed his mouth. “This is a fucking hellhole,” he murmured. “These fuckers…they need a special kind of hell brought down on them.”

When the Egyptian hung up, Clint started to make another call then paused as a vehicle pulled up outside. He put his phone away and approached the window to the left of the door and looked out. An old model moving van was parked out front. A man climbed out and headed up the walk. He wore a ratted baseball cap, thick jacket, and gloves. Clint stepped back from the window and retreated to the desk and waited.

The newcomer entered without knocking and closed the door. He stopped short when he saw Clint, a small frown creasing his brow. “You new here?” The guy was in his mid-twenties, average height and weight. He absently scratched his jaw which was sprinkled with beard stubble.

“You could say that,” Clint drawled.

He nodded. “I’m Laird.” He waited for Clint to introduce himself. When he didn’t, the guy shrugged and cleared his throat. “Where’s Olson?”

“He’s indisposed.”

“All right,” Laird murmured. He jabbed a thumb back at the door. “Well, I brought him some new merchandise. He pays me a finder’s fee. So…” He looked at Clint expectantly.

Clint stared back silently.

“Could you let him know?” Laird pressed with a smidge of impatience. “It’s a long drive back to the city.”

“I told you,” Clint said. “He’s indisposed.”

“Then how ‘bout you pay me, cowboy. I don’t want to hang around all fucking day.”

Clint took a step toward him. “You want what’s coming to you?”

The man stared at him dryly as if Clint were slow of mind. “That’s what I said-”

Clint’s hand shot out, the heel of his palm smashing Laird’s nose with unchecked force, driving shards of nasal bone into his brain. The younger man landed on the floor with a solid thud, dead upon impact. Blood drained from his crushed nose and ran down the sides of his face, a small pool forming beneath his head.

“Payment rendered,” Clint muttered and walked outside to check on the cargo in the van.